The Path Home
by GaleSynch
Summary: —is far, far away and the path is full of thorns but that doesn't mean I'll give up, I still want the warmth, the safety, and the happiness home provides and I'm reaching it. Self-Insert / SI, OC.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything.

**Warnings:** None for this chapter.

**Beta:** Searching for volunteers.

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**001: PROLOGUE**

Pain—electrifying and paralyzing.

Those wonderful sensation were what I felt when I could feel again. I didn't know how long I screamed before the pain started to turn into a plain numbing sensation, before my brain started to at least process something.

I didn't know that getting struck by lightning would last this long, that the pain was forever. I thought lightning strikes were quick and would last just a few moments of pain—and though victims often suffered permanent damage, at least the pain was over.

Was it suppose to last this long?

My throat was raw from screaming, my sight was blurry—either from the tears or the lightning had fried my retinas or optical nerves—and my hearing was impeded by my own screams and tears.

I could hear, barely see people through the haze of electricity. They sounded concerned—my family, they had to be here for me. I didn't know how long before a doctor—judging from the white clad form—approached me with something in hand.

Hopefully, a tranquilizer, I'd prefer to handle prefer without feeling anymore pain.

Something pricked my ear; I whined in discomfort, as if I needed anymore pain on my plate. Slowly, gradually, I stopped crying and screaming; the pain was ebbing. Whatever the doc did was working.

I could hear sobs and words of gratitude and relief floating through the air. But before I could reassure my family that I was fine, I fell asleep, too tired to stay awake after days of crying and screaming—I learned this later.

I thought I could rest peacefully, but I was jostled awake pretty quickly in my opinion. Where I was once trapped in the sterile white walls, I was out under the clear blue sky. I wasn't too worried that my sight was blurry—my eyesight was terrible after all.

What surprised me was that I wasn't carried away by a stretcher or in a wheelchair. For the first time, I felt something other than the numbing pain—something constricting: a swaddle of blankets wrapped around me.

I was baffled: I wasn't dead nor was I a mummy. I squirmed and struggled to let the person carrying me in their arms know that I was still alive and didn't need to be buried.

I whined, but stopped when I realize something: I was being bundled up in someone's arms.

Last I recall—assuming the lightning strike hadn't fried my brain—a grown teen wouldn't fit in someone's arms. And this woman—I was practically bundled up against her chest—was cradling me like an infant.

I squirmed even more, eventually managing—with a lot of frustration—to wiggle one arm free. A small, chubby fist befitting of an infant. I was pretty sure this fist couldn't even wrap itself around a rock. My fist could handle a boulder, no sweat! My hand was callused and large, not this baby's weak—

A baby's arm. I clenched and unclenched my fist. The baby arm in my sight did the same.

So that was my arm after all? My breath hitched.

I screamed.

Instantly, the air sparked. Ozone filled my nostrils, the scent of detested electricity. It wasn't even raining and the sky was still clear and bright. The woman holding me cried out, her hold on me loosening. I nearly fell, the fear of falling and dying prompted more tears.

Fortunately, another pair of stronger arms held me, calming me down considerably. I was held against a flat chest—a man—who inquired the woman whether she was fine or not. He flinched when he held my sparking form.

Hold it. Sparking?

Was I the one who was discharging all that amount of electricity? No wonder the woman cried out and had released me. The question was why I had been able to released electricity. I was fine when I didn't cry or panic, no electric response or anything. Perhaps if I calmed down...?

I stopped sniffling, trying to calm my erratic heartbeat while my eyes adjusted, forced to turn away from the glaring sun. The woman seemed to have pale skin and dark hair and eyes. She was clutching her hand, wheezing slightly but when the man spoke, she smiled and reassured him she was fine.

She stretched out her arms for me. I was pretty sure the man would've hurled me away for hurting his wife—the chemistry between them was obvious—but he handed me over to her with no reluctance at all. His face was tight with barely perceptible concern and his face seemed to be etch into a permanent frown.

He had black hair and eyes, and skin a few shades darker than his wife. Otherwise, they could've passed for relatives. He studied me with a critical eye but turned away and continued walking.

I didn't know who they were.

The woman cooed at me, much like how a mother would coo at her child, but I was positive these two weren't my parents—unless my brain short-circuited and I forgot about them.

I was sure I would at least remember the face of my mother. This woman who treated me kindly, with love and devotion in her eyes was undoubtedly motherly and my body relaxed in her presence—but she wasn't my mother. My mother was someone with light hair and blue eyes. And though my father had the same coloring as this man beside me, they weren't the same people.

I squirmed a little in her arms, but tried not to make it harder for her. Best not to enrage the person who was taking care of me. I better wait for things to become clearer.

We stopped, I shifted a little more to see better. The building we'd stopped before entering was traditional Japanese style—definitely not my kind of dream house. I sniffed. The house had a sort of homey feel to it, warm and friendly. I heard the soft sound of pitter-patter, signifying someone approaching.

The footsteps were light, probably a kid. Their kid.

Someone squealed—a very young voice—and tackled the woman carrying me. She stumbled slightly, making me squirm to see who had tackle her. But another face peer at me once she crouched to pat her toddler son's head. The face was undoubtedly young and boyish, well-concealed curiosity indicated that he was curious about me.

His face looked familiar even though I had never met him. I stretched my free arm toward him. He didn't seem perturbed or even mystified, he just offered a finger to grasp.

"What's the baby's name?" he wondered. His voice was soft and as child-like as his appearance implied.

"Tomoe," The man answered simply—that was not my name, but my tongue couldn't move, my mouth could only burble. "You'll protect your sibling, won't you, Itachi?"

Itachi? Itachi? Whoever names their kid after some character in a manga? Especially one as cursed as that Uchiha Itachi?

My eyes dropped to the headband around his neck. The insignia of a leaf.

Then I did what I should've done the moment I found myself in the arms of a stranger: I screamed.

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**Question:** Still torn between deciding the OC's gender—so, _boy_ or _girl_?


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything.

**Warnings:** None for this chapter.

**Author's Note:** Tomoe _is_ a **unisex** name even though many are unaware of this. Take the male character from Kamisama Kiss for example, his name is Tomoe—and he's completely male.

If anyone is curious, Tomoe's lightning power was inspired by Berubo from Beelzebub and Elsa from the new Disney Movie Frozen. If you've watched the anime/movie, I'm sure you'll know what I meant.

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**THE PATH HOME**

**/**

**002: CURSE**

The reaction was instantaneous.

The fear and confusion exploded in a burst of stinging electricity. The older boy recoiled, but when his mother nearly dropped me, he ignored the pain and caught me as the woman gasped in pain. His face twisted in pain but he managed to hide it well. Witnessing the chaos, the toddler started crying.

Fortunately, he didn't let out any sparks of electricity when he cried.

I tried to shut up, muffling my sniffles and sobs in the older boy's chest. The older boy looked questioningly at his parents, his hands were jerking and twitching, a sign that his nerves had been electrified. "What's wrong with it?" He squinted down at me. "Even his eyes are... an odd color. Sasuke's eyes weren't like this when he was a baby."

His—our—mother sighed, I could hear all the conflict in her voice. "Too much chakra," she whispered. "Remember when I suffered greatly during Tomoe's pregnancy? He's been absorbing nearly all my chakra and we nearly died. He discharges Lightning affinity chakra, his body's way to cope as his coils straightened themselves up. It was terrible. We spent weeks there, the medics made him cry to discharge all that chakra."

"Will he be fine now?"

The woman's face drifted into view, smiling wearily. I could see with clarity, her eyes were ringed with circles of exhaustion. Her hand reached out to touch my right ear, where the doctor had done something. "It took a while for the medic-nins to come up with this. It's a temporary solution but nevertheless, it had done its work. This summon will leech the chakra out if it's too much for Tomoe's body to handle..."

I drowned out the rest of their conversation, feeling extremely exhausted. My eyelids drooped despite how much I struggled to stay awake, and pretty soon, I was aware of nothing.

This routine continued: sleep, eat, sleep.

I enjoyed sleeping sure, but I was losing a sense of time and the few times I was awake, I could hear my parents's hushed whisper, full of concern and doubt. They were discussing whether or not I should be brought to the hospital for further check-ups. Apparently, even for an infant, I was a sleeping too much.

I didn't cry, _never ever_. After the first day I arrived in this household, I had stopped crying as I forced myself to accept the impossible. I had a lot of time alone as my parents forbid my older brothers to come here, for fear that they'd upset me and electrocute themselves.

I was a little lonely but grateful nonetheless. The time-alone gives me time to process this tidbit.

How did I end up in this universe?

The last thing I remember was running, rain pounding on my back and the streets were dark and empty but for the flickering lamppost. The light it'd cast was feeble in comparison to the lightning streaking across the sky. I couldn't remember anything else from before, other than blinding light and pain.

I'd felt electricity thrumming, searing within—I was probably struck by lightning and... what, died?

Impossible. Or maybe not, I had no idea how dying feels like and I'm certainly not dead now. A vivid dream? No, too realistic and usually, pain would've snapped me out of this sleep. In coma and this place was conjured as a way for the mind to cope with body's traumatic experience? Possible. Maybe there was a rip in space when lightning struck me? Highly unlikely but not completely impossible.

Even if the last option did happen, why did I end up in this infant's body?

In canon, the anime didn't mention anything about a younger sibling of the deranged Uchiha brothers. The only possibly explanation was that this baby died and I replaced it when the rift happened?

Talk about confusing.

I yawned; after all that thinking my current brain was incapable of doing, I was ready for another long nap.

Just as I was about to nod off, the door slid open. I wouldn't have noticed anyone coming in if it wasn't for the loud and clumsy movements. Instantly, I knew this wasn't my parents or even my oldest brother—they were highly trained ninja (as ludicrous as it sounds, I probably shouldn't be mocking my future occupation) and they do not produce sounds.

Somehow, they knew I hated noisiness.

I shifted, feeling my wooden (well, considering my circumstances, they'd need to buy non-conductors for me) cot shaking as someone, the toddler brother probably, tried to climb up. He gurgled somewhere down there. "Moe!"

Awesome, there goes my precious nap-time. Was I too annoyed? No, I was intrigued. I rolled to the side, onto my stomach, peering down through the wooden bars to see my brother. I did quick calculations, surmising that he was probably older than I was by two or three years.

He gurgled happily when he saw my face. I had a feeling he'd be in trouble if he was caught in this room. There had to be a way out of this cot. I hadn't tinkered with it yet, too comfortable in sleeping to care about venturing outside. What can I say? I'm not an adventurous or outgoing person, I'd like to stay here until my stay was long overdue.

Obviously, the toddler wouldn't be giving me much of a choice.

Dimly, I realized that I had yet to refer to my brothers by their given names. It was just too odd. Why can't I just fool myself into thinking that they were normal for once and enjoy myself as an infant? Answer's simple: it's too weird for someone like me who appreciates the mundane everyday, non-changing lifestyle.

Being a writer an all, I worked from home and rarely ever left my house unless I really had something important to do. Shuddering, I realized I'd be forced to be a ninja in this world. Going out there, fighting and running and jumping like monkeys. How tiring would it be? My stamina _was_ something to laugh at.

Small sounds of frustration drew me away from my reverie, bringing me back to the problem at hand. What was it again? The toddler down there was stretching as high as possible to reach something. My eyes drifted to the direction of his hand, where it was barely brushing the lock.

I wiggled a hand over—mildly surprised it was harder than usual to move about—the wooden bars. My chubby hand fitted in the space. Fortunately, it wasn't stuck.

Being advanced in mentality, I managed to unlatch the lock after my third attempt. It was too simple for family of ninja. I was surprised there was no traps. I whined quietly when the bars dropped crushing my hand with it. Struggling and twisting, I managed to wiggle my arm free.

The tall toddler's head peered over the barricade-less cot, grinning toothily. "Play!" He was already tugging insistently on my limp, slightly bruised hand.

This little guy was too demanding, too loud and too annoying. He probably wouldn't shut up until I play with him. I clutched tightly onto the sheets as I slid down.

I didn't know how old I was but as my legs collapsed under me, forcing me to land painfully on my bum, I suspected that I was about seven to nine months. It was freezing already, the dim light outside told me it was winter—if the sudden chill and need of thicker clothes weren't enough of a clue.

I could sit up but crawling was much harder. The floor was cold, comfortably so and I wanted to curl up there and sleep. Sasuke's insistent tugging pulled me away from my enjoyable past-time. At the age of three or so, he could already walk and was already moving about enthusiastically.

"My room!" he insisted.

I struggled onto all fours, crawling at a snail's pace after him. I wasn't an active baby and wasn't so inclined on moving about. I was contented to rest in mother's embrace and snore away—not literally.

By the time I got to the hallway, out of my room, Sasuke was already in his room. At least, I assumed the slightly ajar door was his room.

I was wrong.

I remained silent, glancing up with well-veiled curiosity up at my oldest brother who had glanced up when I peered into the room. I never spent much time with my siblings—the only person I interacted with was the woman and even I barely reacted to her presence.

Deciding to ignore him, I toddled past him.

Well, it was a valiant attempt anyway. The older boy caught me and pulled me into his arms. "What are you doing out here, wondering around?" he wondered, his voice a low whisper. I appreciated the pleasant change—he didn't shout like Sasuke did and I had a feeling we could've got along quite well by sipping tea or reading and generally leaving the other to their own devices.

When I was older anyway. Now, I was probably too young to be left alone with no one's watchful eye. He carried me back where I came from. Great.

"Moe!"

Itachi paused, turning slightly to see Sasuke peering out of his room. "Uh-oh." That pretty much summed up the situation—except of course, I didn't think I would be getting yelled at.

Itachi sounded faintly amused. "You know Tomoe is too dangerous to be around," he said softly. "What if you got hurt?"

I stared at the boy in disbelief despite Sasuke's low whine. Dangerous? So I was a dangerous animal ought to be caged in a crib am I? I felt like crying just to hurt him with the electricity that seemed to spark whenever he was around.

But I had learned better than to rely on that weapon of tears. It was as painful for me as it was for the person in contact with me—or in close vicinity.

The last glimpse I saw before Itachi closed the door was Sasuke's teary look at me then the furious one he directed at his older brother.

Itachi didn't even spare me a glance.

Somehow, that thought hurt more than it should.

**-the path home-**

Despite the warnings, Sasuke still sneaked in to see me.

It was fairly easy since the adults were busy and Itachi was more often than not, on a mission. I was, of course, reminded of the fact that he was getting stronger out there on the missions and learning many new things while I was still stuck in this room of mine.

Sasuke was always chatting excitedly about our oldest brother and even though I never knew Itachi as well as I should've—since we lived in the same house and all but brothers—I felt like I was a little closer to him.

The Massacre loomed overhead.

The logical solution was to be like Sasuke, worm my way into Itachi's heart. But there was a problem: we barely see each other. The first time I saw him was when I return from the hospital. The second and last time I saw him was when Sasuke implored me to sneak into his room to play.

I heard his voice passing my room and his extremely soft, nearly non-existent footstep. Sometimes, he'd linger before the doorway, hesitated, then leave. As if he couldn't make up his mind about visiting me.

I decided to just close the distance between me and Sasuke first. Perhaps, if the younger brother was close to me, closer than he ever was to his own parents, I'd be spared for Sasuke's sake, for his happiness.

Fat chance of that happening, I know, but it was worth a few tries.

**-the path home-**

I was resigned to never interact with Itachi and might just die. But he came into my room, one night.

I was blissfully asleep of course, but the sound of heavy breathing and loud dripping sound alerted the highly sensitive me to a foreign presence (yes, we were that distant).

I watched Itachi carefully.

I was barely two—and Sasuke was four, the Massacre didn't happen when he was that young, when he was older perhaps—so I didn't think he was here to assassinate me. I clutched the plush toy that had once been his (though Mother told me Itachi never played with his toys much, or, ever) and watched him closely.

Ready to cry out at the first sign of danger (yes, that was how much I mistrust him).

Itachi studied me critically, his Sharingan spinning. He was either nine or ten—I couldn't remember—but he was probably already Chuunin or Jounin.

My eyes lingered on the slowly gathering puddle on the ground. The lights in the hallway were turned off but I could smell blood. "You're injured...?"

What do you say to a brother who you hadn't seen in two years even though you were raised together by the same parents and lived in the same house and eat the same meals?

Nothing. There was nothing to say. We weren't close and he had no reason to come here. If he wanted comfort, he was better off with his best friend Shisui or his other brother Sasuke whom he was closer to than this silent, isolated little brother who was a potential danger.

"It's not my blood."

I suspected as much. Mother always told me of Itachi's achievements, with pride in her voice, and how he always came home unscathed sans a few bruises and cuts and a few broken ribs or split lip. He never bled. And he never killed so brutally that the blood of his victim would spray onto his clothes.

I could see in the way he carried himself that he'd slit his target's throat, merciful enough to give him a painless death.

"What happened?"

Itachi closed his eyes, obviously not wishing to frighten me. When he opened them again, his eyes were weary ebony, not the bloody shade it had been when he stormed. "It's nothing," he whispered softly, his soft voice somehow carrying over to me. "I was just being... paranoid."

I stared at him, imploring him to speak. For the first time, our eyes met—locked—and neither of us backed down. Finally, he shifted and turned to leave. "Good night," he whispered throatily.

"Was it a genjutsu?"

Itachi paused, studying me critically. "I'm afraid you would have to be more straightforward." His voice was cold and his tone told me that he knew perfectly well what I meant.

I stared at him for a long time—"I'm safe here, at home," I said after a while. "They won't get their hands on me."

Itachi's eyes narrowed at my shrewdness but said nothing, nodding curtly and walking away. I escaped the crib with practiced ease, toddling after him.

I'm sure he knew but he didn't object when I insisted on sleeping with him.

I wonder if he slept better with the heartbeat of someone—the simple reassurance that the person next to him was still alive and well—because it certainly did for me; I placed my head on his chest, and the sound of his heartbeat lulled me to sleep immediately.

**-the path home-**

Mother had the shock of her lifetime when she woke up, went to my room, and failed to see any sign of me—she didn't bother checking every nook and cranny because she knew I wasn't a playful baby—so she screamed her head off.

I was woken up by crash after crash as doors flew open, heading to the source of Mother's voice. Even the battle-hardened Itachi was no exception even though he was supposed to be cool-headed. He nearly rolled me off the bed when he jerked awake so suddenly.

I was sprawled sleepily on his lap when he sat up abruptly after Mother's screaming.

He squinted down at me, alertness slowly dawning in his sleepy orbs. He muttered a soft curse under his breath, scooping me into his arms and starting down the hallway.

Mother was in complete hysterics—when she saw us, she, for the first time ever, yelled at the both of us, ranting and raving till all our clansmen had left before calming down and pulling us into a hug.

Father was _not_ impressed. He said, "I thought you knew better Itachi."

That simple sentence had Itachi avoiding me even more.

I knew he was doing it for our own good—even now, he must've known his family was planning a coup and if he got himself attached to me, he'd just hurt even more when he kills me—but that didn't stop it from hurting.

Why did he have to care one moment and not the next?

Did he know how much it hurts?

**-the path home-**

I learned that I wasn't exactly welcomed.

Mother was my only contact with the outside world. Sometimes, out of loneliness and frustration, I'd cry. The pain wasn't ebbing but I could tell that from my singed crib, the electricity was intensifying. How long would it take for it to increase in power and to kill someone in the end?

No wonder the rest of the clan isolated me.

Father visited sometimes, disapproving and stern. I barely saw him in the first few years of my life which was only filled with Mother and a few handmaiden. I was taught to read and write by Mother and the rest of the old civvies in the clan. They were wary not to touch me or say anything that might be upsetting.

The reproachful look was the most painful.

But that wasn't the only painful part.

It was going worse, every year. Electricity didn't just sparked whenever I cried, now, even touching a single good conductor (a tablespoon perhaps) would spark it. As long as anything that could conduct electricity was within reach, my chakra would fluctuate and sparks would literally fly.

I was five when I nearly killed my own mother. Well, in my head, I still sometimes referred Uchiha Mikoto as The Woman and Itachi and Sasuke as The Brothers (either Elder of The Younger One). My mind was fixated entirely on another face when I thought of my mother and siblings and my father.

All of them were different, with various light-hair and bright eyes instead of this gloomy dark-haired and eyed family.

The accident was entirely that—and accident that cemented the fact I was dangerous.

I just wanted to bid her goodnight and because she was leaving so quickly, reached out to stop her—feeling for a hug. The moment she convulsed on the floor, screaming, I knew I'd forever be barricaded from the world.

I dropped her hand as if I was being burned.

You'd think my reunion with my brothers would be more pleasant than this, but what brought Sasuke running was his mother's scream and his accusing glare my way. Then Itachi and Father had rushed him, threw me a very cautious look before spiriting Mother away.

The incident was still imprinted clearly in my mind.

...

I spent that Christmas and the New Year alone; the maids still brought food but they just placed the food before the door and hastily leaving after that.

...

...

...

...

...

And I spent every Christmas and New Year alone after_ that_.

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.

**Question:** What sort of person do you think Tomoe will grow up to be?

BTW, if this chapter seems to be skipping a lot of stuff—that's because I'm saving it for the next chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

**The Path Home**

**X**

**Chapter 003: **Interlude I** - **Family

**i. mother**

An uncontrollable and disloyal tool would not make a good weapon.

This was the very reason why Father and the rest of the clansmen never paid much attention to me. Yes, I had powers—abnormal chakra that was tangible—but they had not mold me as well as they did Itachi.

Itachi who was perfectly compliant and loyal and controllable. They already had Itachi for the coup, I was no use as I was untrained, wild and too young.

That didn't mean Mother didn't try to teach me anything combat-related.

She did; being a Jounin during war time, she was a little paranoid despite the peace within the nations. She said there were still enemies in and out of Konoha that was dangerous to the Uchiha Clan. She taught me basic self-defense—but Mother's specialty lay best in her cunning.

The smarts to use the terrain to her own advantage instead of charging headfirst and using her fists and techniques. Mother was superbly skilled in genjutsu and Shurikenjutsu as well—pity she gave up the life to a ninja to take care of us, her children and family.

I had a feeling she was exceptionally happy to have me as a student. Most of the time, she had nothing to do once she was done with cleaning the house and her husband and elder son were out of the house, working and her middle son was in the Academy and training with his peers.

Her only company was gossiping women around her age and her youngest son who really had no interest in the outside world.

She chose the latter—and she'd lead me to a place away from prying eyes. Sometimes, I had the impression that the Uchiha Clan was trying to hide me away.

But I never asked her about it; too entranced by how all the age-lines and stress disappeared from Mother's face as she whirled around the Nakano River, flickering in and out of sight — this was Mother's favorite phrase: _you can take the woman out of the army, but you'd never be able to take the soldier out of the woman._

It was her way of saying that she loved the thrill of battle as much as she loved her family and the time she spent with them.

Suffice to say, I was closest to Mother—out of everyone in the family and clan. I followed her everywhere: toddling after her when she was in the kitchen making our meals, when she was cleaning the whole house, when she was tending to her garden, when she was hanging the clothes out—I was her miniature shadow.

I liked the tranquil silence where there was only the two of us. Usually, when Father was around, I was hiding back in my room, reading one of the many books Mother had started buying for me.

Mother said I was a blend of Sasuke's hyperactivity and Itachi's brains—which was to say, I wasn't as taxing as the two brothers. Mother told me that she spent half of her life chasing Itachi away from sharp things when he was a baby and trying to save Sasuke from impaling himself with a tree branch.

...

...

...

**ii. father**

Mother had told me, earlier, breaking it gently that I might not be able to perform the Fireball Jutsu that was our rite of initiation into the Clan.

My affinity was Lightning and after a few more tests, Mother guessed that my second affinity was water—which pretty much meant that it would be a miracle for me to perform well in Fire jutsu.

Was I disappointed?

Not really. Sasuke comforted me when I only managed to puff out black smoke like a damn chimney but I wasn't too sorry; just a little afraid under Father's stern glare—which only softened when he saw me playing with a tangible ball of chakra-made electricity.

"You'd make an awesome ninja, Otouto!" Sasuke promised, grinning.

"...Un."

When everyone dispersed, back to their own business, I sidled up to my mother, clinging onto her skirt like a leech. I like being annoying to her, I delighted in the fact that she wasn't really annoyed.

"Okaa-san?"

"Hm?"

"I have a feeling that Otou-sama is very disappointed in me," I said, and after a few moments where the only sounds were the dishes clinking against one another, I added, "and he's not very happy with Sasuke either. It's always Itachi this and Itachi that."

Mother dried her hands after she placed the last of the dishes on the shelve, turning to crouch before the four-year-old me. She took my hand, smiling.

"When there's only me and him, he speaks about nothing but you and Sasuke," she said.

"Really? Sasuke would be delighted."

Her smile turned a little quizzical. "And aren't you?"

I hugged her. "As long as you're proud of me, I'm delighted."

...

...

...

**iii. sasuke**

Sasuke and I were okay, I suppose—he was still closer to Itachi though but it seemed to be changing. Whereas Itachi would make mindless promises to him that he never kept, Sasuke made promises to me that he _kept_. Everyday, he'd come home and play with me.

I knew Sasuke was neglecting his army of friends and fans to rush home and play with me. I was selfishly delighted. A part of me thought it fitting he'd mingle with the worthy, another part of me argued that he needed more friends outside; then they'd be there to support him when he fell.

A large part of me was glad he thought I was good company.

We trained in the most secluded part of the Uchiha training grounds we could fine; hidden by trees from everyone. Usually, I watched as Sasuke train while I sat and bounce my own made ball.

Touching kunai wasn't a very smart thing to do since I'd only electrocute the person closest to me.

Instinctively, I'd reach up to my right ear where I could feel the black-pink plant was—sucking at my chakra to feed itself. It was the medics' temporary solution until my chakra pathways grew large enough (according to Mother, it was already being strained and was growing at an abnormal rate) to contain the amount of chakra my heart was pumping.

"Tomoe?"

I looked up at him. "Hm?"

Sasuke was frowning, an unusual expression on his normally cheerful face. He was glaring pointedly at the targets where the kunai hit bulls-eye. I clapped politely, trying to encourage him but he still looked upset.

"Do you think I'd be as good as Aniki?"

When he referred to Aniki, I'd know who he was talking about. I call him by his name, the only one who got an honorary title was Itachi.

I frowned, my mind summoning the memory of Sasuke's and Itachi's battle. "You won't be as good as him," I said slowly, seeing Sasuke's shoulders droop. "you'd be better than him."

He turned to me, surprised. "Really? You think so?"

"I know so." It was a fact, a matter set in stone, but that still made Sasuke grin and throw his arms around me.

...

...

...

**v. shisui**

I glared. "Stop that."

He didn't; he flicked my forehead. Uchiha Shisui was the most annoying out of all my cousins. Being the (current) youngest child in the clan, I was obliged to be polite and would often be subjugated to stupid cooing from everyone.

I whined lowly when he poked my forehead again.

"Aw... how cute."

"I'd electrocute you," I promised. The seriousness and danger of the threat was lost on my childish face and too-adorable-to-be-considered-dangerous pout.

"I'd like to see you try," Shisui mocked. "Your father forbid you from using it."

"I can still make you stop and say sorry," I sniffed, turning away.

"Oh, how?"

"One word," I warned, turning away, "_Aniki_!"

...

...

...

**v. itachi**

Being a crybaby in this world and life was an awesome thing. Whenever I started sniffling, everyone'd be rushing to please me, not one of them wanting to be on the receiving end of a severe electrocution.

There were only two people in this world who I didn't try the trick on: Father and Aniki.

Itachi was immune to it and Father would smack me if I tried something like that on him, he disliked being threatened, especially by his own shrimp of a son.

I sighed heavily, scuffing my sandaled feet in the dirt. "Do you really have to go?" I asked Sasuke who was my only friend and companion.

Sasuke didn't look too happy himself. "Yeah," he said, as glum as I was. But he reached up to tug the bangs framing my face. "Promise I'll be back as early as possible."

This was a tradition: Itachi would poke my forehead and Sasuke would tug my hair lightly. I usually cling on to them, not as much as a tradition as annoying the hell out of everyone.

I frowned Sasuke out the front door, not allowed to follow. "Why can't I go with him?" I wondered out loud.

"You want to go to the Academy, too?"

I jumped, whirling around. I released a sigh of relief. "Oh, you."

"Me," agreed Itachi. Like Sasuke, he was about to leave for his work.

"Have a nice day," I said halfheartedly.

Itachi's face remained impassive at my not-so-sincere greeting. "About my question?" he prompted.

"I just want to be with Sasuke," I admitted. "But I guess I'd like to be busy instead of lazing around." I never thought the day would come that I'd say this. Conflicting with my lazy nature was my aversion to being bored. I could always motivate my lazy ass into action when I was bored.

Itachi nodded slightly to indicate he'd heard me. After murmuring his farewell, he left. I knew I'd be the one left watching the house since Father was at work and Mother had left for her stupid book club. Or Ladies Club. Or Mother's Club. I had no idea what her club did, just that ladies her age meet and talk.

I returned to the house, reading and lolling about for a few hours, waiting for my mother to come back. My eyes found the clock, it had already struck twelve and Mother was usually home about now.

When thirty minutes passed, I was starting to feel hurt and hungry. Had mother forgotten me?

I strode back to the front door, frowning, but I couldn't see anyone returning.

I counted till sixty, and after making sure that no one was watching, I darted out, starting down the path my brothers had taken hours before.

I roamed the village, my indigo-colored eyes so wide it may have popped out somewhere along the way, but seeing as I could still take in the sights that was my village, my eyes were in top-notch condition.

My eyesight was very good; ironic as I was as blind as a bat in my past-life. Other than the fact that I'd die soon, this was a fairly well trade-off.

My stomach growled, reminding me that I was still hungry and that being reincarnated didn't mean I was insusceptible to human needs. I had no ryo. I cursed myself for being an idiot, but even if I had remembered to bring money out, it'd be useless since I had no idea where my parents stored their money.

I decided to go home and have a small snack while waiting for my mother to return.

I turned, ready to walk back home, when I faltered. To my right was a row of stalls and tall buildings: the market place. To my left was a path that led to... somewhere...

There were only two roads. I thought I walked straight?

Closing my eyes, I turned left.

It took me only an hour to realize that I was lost. I crawled into the small cave under the tree to avoid the rain—which was steadily getting heavier. My stomach growled louder but since I didn't fancy getting a cold and running about blindly like an idiot, I stayed curled up for warmth, wrapping my arms around my legs, burying my face in my arms.

I was free to cry since the tree was made of wood and was a solid non-conductor.

I didn't know how long had passed since I'd taken refuge under the tree, all I knew was that I was hungry, tired and aching all over. It was still raining—thunder rumbled and lightning flashed—but it was dark outside. Even my superior sight couldn't combat the dark.

It had to be about six or seven. Mother and Sasuke would've been back by now and if there was little work, Father would be home too. Would anyone notice?

I hope so. I want to go home.

.

"Tomoe?"

I jerked, head snapping upwards when I heard the familiar voice. I couldn't believe my ears but... "Tomoe?" The voice came again and I scrambled to my feet.

"Aniki!"

Itachi's lined face peered in. He looked furious and tired but, underneath it all, he was relieved. "Get up here," he said, stretching an arm for me to take.

Itachi was soaked through, wetter than I am and he didn't bring an umbrella, having ran out at top-speed when he heard from our hysterical mother I was missing. But I didn't care about how wet he was; he was still very much warm when I hugged him and I liked it.

We were not welcomed home with open arms.

Father's stern lecture was drowned out mostly by Mother's furious tirade and Sasuke's concerned questions. It was raining and the cold was seeping into the house, but wrapped up in a towel, sitting snugly in Itachi's lap beside Sasuke, I felt warmer, livelier and happier than I had ever been in this life.

I was home.

...

...

...

* * *

**xxx**

**AN:** This is an interlude, of family bonding and stuff. We'll be heading on to the Massacre in the next chapter.

**Question:** Any theories as to how Tomoe'd live?

_Reviews are accepted and read by me even though I didn't reply (I'm too busy —.—ll but I really do appreciate it)._


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